The Gift Received

Have you ever seen a ghost from the past? An image of one long ago who could not, should not be there as you drive past but you know, believe, that the image is not a ghost? How quickly our minds and brains engage and flood all senses and emotions. Time loses its boundaries and there all is once again.

I sat on my cushion and pondered the ghost. Gently I whispered “I welcome you fear. I welcome you courage. I welcome you love. I welcome you pain. I welcome all that is right now and all that was.” A while back I wrote that no one leaves holes in our hearts, they are but kneeling prints where a gift was laid. Did the ghost carry that same belief?

Perhaps I am at last the perfection they once dreamed. Perhaps the failures were only perceived. More likely, and in truth, I am the person I am now. There is no forgiveness necessary. There is only absolution. I simply am me and the me I am has been shaped by the ghost.

I opened my eyes in time to see a feather dance its way to the ground. A gentle smile and I went outside to retrieve. As I approached, the feather the playful wind scooped it up. The feather danced away. A gentle tear of joy and my hands went to my heart. I bowed in grace. I bowed in joy. I bowed as I am. No need to chase….the gift had long ago been received.

Warrior Child

Sometimes I feel like such a restless child, held down, sssshhhhh'd and told to sit still. I want to run without a care, laughing, arms flinging and legs tangling til I fall. There is a time for polite and attentive listening. There is a time for silence and learning. But there is a time for play. Band-Aids are available. Grass and mud stains will be bleached. They are the scars of a warrior child released.

Cradled Waterfall

I know suffering, my own and the world's. I do not deny, suppress, nor turn my gaze. I know the tears streaming down and the knots suffering creates. Perhaps that is why the Celtic cross is created with intertwining knots and circles. Pain, loss, fear, whatever the label, I call them each by name as I would a dear friend. Each is my teacher, my mentor, and even the path.

The knots bind me with my own tenderness and those of all beings and life. The knots bind me in the circle of joy, gratitude, this moment flowing into the next. The knots woven by suffering are the cradle and cocoon of my heart and tears. And when the time is ripe, I emerge with waterfalls of joy streaming from the knots. The streaming down now bathes all without and within.

Opening Christmas #3 - Opened Wrapping

Opening Christmas Day 3 I giggle to think of yesterday's attempt to open a package that was ever so taped and secure. I could not find a single opening to begin to peel back the layers of tape. I finally sat and just laughed at the box.

On this day 3 of opening Christmas may I ponder the soft layers gifted by morning. To know no matter how precious my heart, perhaps one could even say scared and bruised, I can offer it with openness and softness like the layers of morning and light upon the mountains. That is, truly, the gift I am giving no matter the contents inside a box. To release the tape and wrap with gentle soft layers that will greet the heart and hands that receive. No tape, no layers of protection, no fear...the gift is known in its opened offering.

Tags Released

The sweet joy of sitting in meditation before dawn. The stillness of love gifted within and without. All was broken by the scratching of my shirt’s tag against my neck. I started to reach and move the tag but stopped when I noticed how tense my body had become. I was not silent. I had become angry at the tag. In its silent scratching it had deafened my heart and stiffened my body. My mind had raced to fear that this was not a good omen for the day. It was just a tag. It was just a tag. And somehow it had transformed into something more than cloth and threads ever dared to think they would be. I sat with the tag, befriending what it simply was. A laughter meditation, but ever so humbling. A lesson best gently learned from a little tag, than with others, beliefs, and life. And when the unstilled stilled sitting was done, to leave a soft feather of trust and gratitude to this tag…releasing all others not made with cloth.

Really!

       The grade was posted and read 100 points out of a 100. Couldn’t do any better than that. So why did I continue to groan over the should’ve done this, should’ve read that, and do I really understand what I wrote? And if I hold such criticisms, when good is acknowledged or compliments given, how much more do I hold judgment where perhaps I have not responded so well? 

       Oh the distorted reflections. I smile, and a small giggle. Sweet mercy, if we had learned self-love as deeply as we’ve learned self-doubt, what would the news have to report? What would happen to all the self-help books, addictions, abuse, and the oft sighed phrase, “if only”? I think I shall go and buy packets of little gold stars. Maybe, with a giggle, leave with a tip, hand to another, or even to sprinkle upon the sidewalks as I walk. No, they will have to be BIG gold stars so I can write “REALLY!” upon each one.

Life's Weather Report

The mind racing as I sat in meditation. From this and that to that and this. I heard my mind, ever so harsh and strong, declare “thinking.” My heart replied “There is no judgment, just a reminder of how you can go about your day, unmindful, scattered about, doing this and that, everywhere but here in this moment. Begin again little one.” And oh the sweet smile I felt upon my face. Just this breath present and aware. So it was…. So it wasn’t. Another delicious and sweet smile welcoming the next breath, releasing to begin again.  Afterwards I checked the weather – “Passing shower.” Sweet mercy, Life does have a sense of humor! My laughter vibrated the pictures on the walls.  A day to savor sweet and delicious smiles.

Scissored Wings

With fondness the image returned of my little marionettes I had as a child. I vividly recalled asking them if they would like me to pull their strings so they could dance. Then the mind shifted to Peter Pan and the magic and awe of childlike wonder...learning I too can fly. Perhaps only a sign of my age to recall such stories. But this morning, this day, old or not, may I find the middle path between the two. To honor myself and not allow either myself or others to create strings and make me jump, like a gunfighter shooting at my feet shouting “Dance!” Nor can I avoid the honoring of myself and others by escaping and leaving my heart’s contracts and service undone. To recall how love and truth released Pinocchio from his strings and Peter Pan's eternal flame of dreams. This day, may I touch myself and all others with Love’s scissored wings and fill the sky with hearts of joy, wonder, compassioned truth and Now.

Absolution's Dervish

The sun neither sets nor rises. It is simply the earth turning. Forgiveness is turning from the belief that that all things, events and people should be exactly as I want and wanted them to be. To defy gravity and stand in the open cosmic Space of Life, to turn and know absolution’s release. Free from gravity I can see both sun and moon. Free from gravity I can twirl and dance the heart’s dervish and watch a million sunsets and moon rises. All is as it should be. 

Truth begets Playfulness

 To choose the wonder and awe that enfolds when filters and judgments made of the past are released. To know what was thought was just that a thought. Now, to see a mountain basin, and in the cleansing awe of Truth, to ponder that Life perhaps sat down upon the mountains and giggled with delight wondering if anyone would notice the seat She made. The cloud shadow a throw for Her feet. Truth begets playfulness.

A Thousand or More Words

I sit with mala beads in my hands and my heart in my throat. How to pray? How to pray? To open my eyes and realize the gift of life this day. And in the drops of night's rain clinging I see the reflection in one drop. Clinging. Reflection. Renewal. Release. I sit with mala beads in my hands my heart embodied in a flower. This is how I shall pray.

Bitter End

In many boating knots there is Standing End - which takes the strain, and a Tail - the loose end in your hand. On large ships a shore line is initially tightened with a winch. The tail is then properly called a Bitter End as it is transferred to the Bitts - fixed posts to tie the rope. To do this, a second rope is tied to the shore line with a Rolling Hitch a to take the strain temporarily.

Isn't that grand! The Standing End takes the strain. The Tail is to be held loosely in our hands and when it is tied to something fixed, it is known as the Bitter End. And to the strain absorbed by the Standing End, the Rolling Hitch can take the strain temporarily. To ponder the Standing that takes the strain, absorbs, and holds steady an the Rolling, the flexibility of bending and unfixed that temporarily absorbs the strain and pulls of life. But to hold fast, to attach is called the Bitter End. Oh giggle, isn't that grand! 

To Stand in Life, to Stand and know our security and yes perhaps to roll and always to hold loosely. Better yet, to release all ropes and leave the dock and sail. But when we return home, to Stand and hold loosely.

Resounding Love

And if a little hobbit were to tell you that for the past two hours the hobbit house's adobe walls have shook so that a picture fell to the floor and crashed like the thunder, that the lightning proved it can light a room in the darkest hour of night brighter than the sun a midday, and that the hobbit has stood beneath the shower head of the sky would you even begin to feel what the morning has been like?  It was as if the rain fortress in the sky had to be dynamited to be released upon the drought and fire ridden earth of my little state and city. And so it falls this morning. Soaking into the night covered ground before the sun can find and drink. Sometimes prayers are answered with whispers. Sometimes the Love that answers bellows "Hear my voice and remember!" Sometimes tears and rain, thunder and heart beats, lightning and smiles are the same.

"The tree was a tree
with happy leaves,
and I was myself,
and there were stars in the sky
that were also themselves
at the moment
at which moment
my right hand
was holding my left hand
which was holding the tree
which was filled with stars
and the soft rain –
imagine! imagine!
the long and wondrous journeys
still to be ours" ~ Mary Oliver

Eve of Eve

About 3 am, my little dog demanded to go out NOW  and with only a t-shirt, sweat pants and no socks, the cold pre-dawn 19 degree wind whipped against my body and I bellowed a  'sweet mercy!' that made the stars and moon dance, causing me to squeal in joy and giggles.  I giggled to think of Christmas magic for a child. That one moment standing before the tree when the eyes and heart exploded in the squeal of joy.  I shall abide in that breathless moment....for the magic, the gifts, the joy and excitement are mine now, wrapped in my BEing.  The Essence of Love never makes us wait, tis ours now, this moment, every breath.  Oh sweet mercy, the gifts of breath, life, a beating heart, and joy are so precious... but tis the moment of awareness of their presence, the Present...that creates the magic squealing with joy. In that space I shall abide. Sweet mercy....rampant giggles.

Let the magic out! Release the joy of the Present wrapped in ribbons weaving throughout time and all dimensions. Let your squeal be heard and vibrate infinity!

 "Inside of everyone is a great shout of joy waiting to be born" ~ David Whyte

Perhaps

Perhaps it is what the artist or sculptor feels to see their Heart unveiled upon the canvas or a block of marble redefined. Perhaps it is what the poet feels as their heart flows through their fingers and squiggles of ink become the voice of the soul. Perhaps it is..... but I am neither an artist, sculptor nor poet. Perhaps their message to all is to simply reach and release...Love will meet you there.

What is Gone

A moment’s ponder  in the silence of what is gone,

Was it simply a release, a letting go

Perhaps a choice to take a different path.

The earth tremors when mountains are born

Yet softened quivers with the petal’s touch.

Release or choice, no matter really

The path awaits

I can see the mountains

The petals caress my feet.

Moving From

A "duh" moment of laughter. Waking up before dawn and my first thought "I need to go and meditate" As if the space and time between my bed, waking and altar were insignificant and not part of Now .

  My little altar, nature, sitting by a tree, walking, and the precious things I can see and read bring such joy, peace, laughter and love. I would find myself going "to" them. To experience and BE and know myself as the altar, nature, the sitting, the walking, the words of Love, Hope, Life allows me to move FROM and Into Life not "to". I am the center and entrance to the labyrinth of Life and Love all of these are the gentle curves and turns giving pause to reflect, give thanks, and expand like ripples outward, growing, understanding, developing, unfolding and embracing all others. BEing Now I move From I am and ripple and turn moving "to."

Unseen's Dance

My right hand for 57 of my 58 years has grasped and carried things, written stories, poetry, and even my name. The last year a tremor has made those treasures all but impossible and it remains hidden in my pocket to keep others from staring. As my little heart unfolds, my spirit rises and dispels what the mind sees, I look at my hand and see not the tremor but her precious heart. And so a little paint set, sitting on a path against a tree, I whispered softly, "Dance."  And a little hand and wings soared from the mountain top to the clouds. A giggle spirit danced atop the lake below. 

Celebrate the glorious perfection that IS.

Hospitable Welcome

It was almost 7 a.m., 31 degrees, light freezing mix falling. The sun's stretch hidden by the sudden appearance of winter. It was my time to walk. I had been pondering what I would do this winter, caught in the trap of mind fearing time. There is no time in Life, no tomorrow wrapped in fear. Life is timeless, fearless and offers faces and doors of discovery, dance, anticipation and gifts of surprise and wonder. I could "think" of all the reasons to postpone my walk or not even walk, or I could melt into Life, embrace, open the the door wide and say "Come in" and "Welcome." I opened the door and let Life stand between "in" and "hospitable" BEcoming "IN ~ Hospitality."

I opened the door. The clouds came and sat at the mountain's table. The sun touched the tips of autumn's trees making them look like hundreds of paint brushes dripping with the palette's paint upon the blank canvas of the sky... and I walked into and with Life.

Seasons' Paths

Yesterday upon the earth I sat, my back supported by a tree, thinking my body could go no further. All around me I saw weathered rock sculpted like art, young trees that bent their trunks to find the sliver of sun between the canopies of older trees, fallen trees leaning against another and thriving. Even the path had changed from the wind the night before. This morning I fell into a fit of giggles as I looked at the thermostat and the same drop in temperature I would have danced to in the summer now made the house feel cold, yet the "drop" was the same. Years move me forward and deceive me into thinking life is linear and "progressive." Nature knows no end, does not expect to end. Even the smallest life form with the shortest life span explodes into life without thought that it will not continue. I shall grow and "age" with the seasons and their rhythms, knowing each season's wisdom, change, twists, turns, quietness, rebirth, renewal, the paths that suddenly become visible and their dance. As T.S. Elliot said, "There is only the dance." Hello.... I am 235 seasons dancing into forever naturally.

To not let myself or the world paint a linear path. We are an ocean in a dewdrop (Rumi). A "creation" which is truly both a noun (present state) and a verb (constantly creating, Flow).